A Noble Prince And A Black Hearted Thief 50 Drabbles
by stormcin
Summary: Proteus / Sinbad. Slash. 50 Drabbles.
1. Evidence

The evidence was all there. Anyone could see it. Hades, a blind man could see it. A pirate had been caught with the Book of Peace in hand as he fled from the palace, his crew at his side and his knife found by the unconscious guard. Worse, earlier, he had threatened the prince to steal the Book. And the pirate was to be put to death.

And yet, Proteus couldn't accept it. Sinbad had been his best friend for years. He had saved Proteus' life over and over again. Proteus would have died for him as a child. He only wondered if he was willing to die for him as a man.

Sinbad may have changed, but Proteus still saw the cocky yet sweet grin of the street boy he had saved. That had dreamed of joining the Navy by his side. It was hidden beneath the cold, arrogant mask or a pirate that Sinbad wore now, but it was there.

Proteus had spent his childhood saving Sinbad's life, just as Sinbad had saved his.

And yet again, it was his job to save Sinbad.


	2. Here

Sinbad's body was hard against his. His arms wrapped tight around Proteus' shaking form, burying his face in Proteus' neck. Proteus knew it was inappropriate - that the members of the Twelve Cities behind him were condemning them both. He didn't care. Right now, Sinbad was the only thing that could get the image of the axe blade slicing down in front of his face out of his mind.

Proteus could feel Sinbad's fingers digging into his back, drawing him as close as he could get. All those years apart, he had never realized how much he had missed Sinbad's embrace. The hard fold of his arms around him.

As Proteus had waited for death, it was the one thing that had kept him going. Lonely nights in his cell, he had imagined Sinbad's return. The way that Sinbad would throw his arms around him, wearing that gods-cursed grin of his.

He had never imagined that Sinbad would return with tears in his eyes.

It took him a moment to realize that Sinbad's lips were moving against his neck, whispering something over and over. A mantra. The exact words that Proteus dreamt of.

"I'm here." Sinbad whispered, again and again, moving to kiss the tears from Proteus' face. "I'm here, I'm right here."


	3. Puppy Love

AU considering the timeline of the movie...

* * *

Sixteen year old Sinbad considered the mutt with a raised brow, before turning his unimpressed look to Proteus. In Proteus' arms, the puppy wriggled, starting to chew on a strand of Proteus' dark hair. Readjusting his hold on the dog, Proteus frowned in concern.

"You don't like him?"

Sinbad stared at him as if he had just suggested that the Earth was round and the Gods figments of human imagination. "It's a Gods cursed mutt."

"I thought, maybe..." Proteus dropped his gaze to the marble floor of the palace.

Sinbad kicked himself for his tone. Here was his best friend offering him a gift and he was acting as if he hated it. Not that he was fond of dogs. They were just another thing that needed feeding and looking after. What use would a dog be on a ship?

The dog embraced in Proteus' lithe arms was the colour of ocean sand, and though small now, his paws promised that he would grow much larger. The puppy whined, scrambling up to place his too large paws on Proteus' thin shoulders.

As the dog started to wash Proteus face, Sinbad softened slightly towards the pale scrap of life. It was obvious Proteus liked the thing. As a prince, Proteus couldn't have a dog. Especially a rangy street mutt. But if he took him, Proteus would be there constantly, doting on the small thing. The dog could come in handy.

Proteus scratched the dog's ear and it groaned in pleasure. Proteus smiled as he looked at him, and Sinbad felt his heart give a kick.

Sinbad rolled his eyes, holding out his arms. "Give it to me."

"What shall you call him?" Proteus asked, as he handed over the mutt, which promptly curled up into Sinbad's chest, his head resting on his shoulder while he nibbled on Sinbad's ear.

Sinbad considered. "Spike."

It was Proteus' turn to groan and roll his eyes.

"He's pretty friendly for a street dog." Sinbad said in surprise.

"Funny." Proteus murmured, reaching up to pet the dog's head, his eyes locked on Sinbad's. "That's what I said about you."


	4. Kid Gloves

No matter where he was, or who he was with, Sinbad could not be denied his nature. He had been created by the Gods themselves to a thief. Proteus knew for certain that this was a fact. For Sinbad had returned to Syracuse after ten years, and with those God granted powers, he had stolen the heart of the prince, again.

What a foolish prince this had to be, Proteus mused, to fall for a wanted criminal. If knowledge of their love reached others ears, disaster would befall them. But Proteus had spent ten years without his best friend and lover. He couldn't stand to lose the man again. He just wasn't sure what he would choose: Syracuse, or the man he loved?

They would have to treat their situation carefully. No one could know. Not the servants, not their friends, not his father. They would both just have to wear kid gloves for the rest of their lives together.

The thought of Sinbad's large, chapped hands enfolded in kid gloves made him snort – a most unprincely like gesture. Beside him, Sinbad stirred, lifting his hat from his confused face. Proteus grinned at him, pushing himself up on his elbows so he hovered over his love. "I'm learning horrible habits from you." He teased, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Grinning, Sinbad tangled his hand in his loose hair. "Let me teach you another one."


	5. Rules

Dymas loved listening to his son ramble as they ate. It was the one time he dismissed his servants, and spent time with Proteus. Proteus was speaking now, as the food grew cold on his plate. "He's really funny. And he's cute, all the girls say so." Eight year old Proteus said, before attacking the fish on his plate with his fork.

Across the table from him, King Dymas choked on his glass of pomegranate juice. He sputtered, smacking him self on the chest. Proteus looked up, curious as to why his father was acting so strangely.

Recovered, Dymas took another sip of his drink while his mind raced. Had he never told his son that girls thought boys were cute, but that did not mean that boys thought other boys were cute? Boys thought girls were cute. It seemed important now, yet he wasn't sure he ever had.

Setting aside his goblet, Dymas frowned at his son. The excited look Proteus had had while talking about Sinbad slipped away. "Daddy?"

"Proteus." Dymas said gravely. "There are rules. You know that, yes?"

Proteus nodded sharply, eager to please. "Yes. Like don't hit the girls, and be a... a gentlemen!" He said, excited to have remembered it. "And to not chew with your mouth open – though Sinbad does that sometimes." For a moment he frowned, but then was back into his list before Dymas could interrupt. "And I mustn't say bad things, and I must not get my clothes dirty." He paused again, his small face crease in a frown. "But Sinbad does that a lot."

Dymas sighed. "Son, there is another rule. Boys do not think other boys are cute."

Proteus' frown grew, but after a moment, he nodded. "Yes, Father."


	6. Accusations

"You're taller then me." Sinbad said accusingly. As if somehow Proteus had schemed and planned for this occurrence.

Proteus considered him carefully from where they lounged on the chaise on the balcony. It was true, Proteus realized. He hadn't realized he was growing taller than his friend. He shrugged, working growing pains out of his leg. "My father is tall. I suppose it is to be expected that I grow tall as well."

Sinbad's eyes narrowed as he continued to run the cleaning rag over the blade of his dagger. The well polished blade shone silver in the moonlight. "I liked you better when you were a kid. When you didn't have all your fancy answers."

"And when I was shorter, right?"


	7. Secrets

"You know you could never keep secrets from me?" Marina asked as Proteus approached her.

Proteus' smile was forced as he rested against the balcony. "I think I must have a few." he said quietly. It was his turn now to watch the sea, though Marina thought he saw the man who loved it as much as she did, rather than the ocean's waves themselves.

The sun was rising now, casting the dark waves a shade of pink. "Why do you think Sinbad came to the party?" Marina asked, though she knew the answer. "It's not as if he robbed us. I've had word that he's at the docks now."

Proteus gave a laugh. "Sinbad is a wild creature, Marina. No one but the Gods know why he does what he does."

Marina gave a quiet smile. "And yet I wonder if I do," she murmured, thinking of the light that had entered Proteus' eyes as he had flung his arm around his old friend. Though she had been talking to another party guest, she had been watching Sinbad's arrival with an inquisitive, yet surreptitious gaze. She had never seen Proteus eyes light up like that in her direction. It made her stomach ache, wondering how the man who had run away had garnered the love of her Prince Charming.

"Do you lay claim to be a God Marina?" Proteus asked, a thread of bitter humour in his voice she had never heard before. "A dangerous profession."

"No. I just claim to know love when I see it."

The silence from Proteus was enough to convince her she was right. For a long moment she was quiet, gripping the stone of the balcony until her knuckles were white. She knew Sinbad had returned with no knowledge of her, and she knew Sinbad loved Proteus as much as he loved him.

What she was about to say she could never take back. What she was about to say may plunge the kingdom into chaos.

"Never in good conscience could I tell a prince to abandon his people to take after the man he loves." Marina said, watching the colours bleed from the sky. She risked a peek at Proteus. The crestfallen look on his face broke something inside her. "But I would tell him not to let the love of his life run away for another ten years."


	8. Addiction

Confined in his cabin, Sinbad wet the quill of his pen, and then placed it to the paper. After a moment, he scratched out a quick scrawl, so different then Proteus' cultured writing that rested beside his elbow.

_It's funny. I know many people ravished by addiction. Starving themselves, selling themselves, losing themselves to their drug of choice. Never thought I would count myself among their ranks. Probably because I never tasted my drug. Never kissed sweet lips, or licked sweat from its quivering form as it writhed beneath me. _

Sinbad grinned at what he had written. He could almost see Proteus blush as he read the last line, the uncomfortable shifting of legs that would follow that. If there was one thing he loved nearly as much as his prince, it was knowing he had the power to provoke him, though he was hundreds of miles of saltwater away.

That though he suffered from his addiction, that Proteus suffered from his just as much.

Though, he thought, with a quick look at the letter Proteus had written, certainly not more. Even just a glance at the words in Proteus careful, measured penmanship was enough to cause heat to flare within. He placed his quill back to the paper.

_I do hope your father no longer reads your letters._


	9. Man's Best Friend

"Spike," Sinbad shouted, rushing away from the merchant he had been talking to and after his rangy mutt. "Gods-cursed dog," the pirate grumbled as the dog shot down an alley. Nearly falling on the ice that covered Syracuse, Sinbad bolted after him.

The winter was a bitter one for Syracuse, ice frozen on to the streets and the bitterly cold air forcing people into thick clothes. Sinbad had arrived with a hold full of winter clothes, and was already making a killing selling it to desperate merchants and towns people.

A man was bent, knees resting on the icy surface as he stroked Spike's back. Spike washed his face with an urgency he normally only reserved for friends. A guard scowled down at the dog, but the man held out an arm to stop him from acting.

"Hades." Sinbad snapped under his breath. He was going to be arrested because his dog wouldn't leave a Gods-cursed noble alone. For a moment, he considered leaving the mutt, but knew he couldn't. Not his gift from Proteus. Besides, the crew would mutiny if they found that he had left the dog.

Catching his breath in the cold air, Sinbad walked forward. "Spike, here boy." He called, approaching them.

The man looked up, and Sinbad felt any warmth his body had managed to preserve wash away. Wrapped in brown winter clothes and a dark blue cape, Proteus had grown taller in Sinbad's absence. His shoulders had filled out, his face had elongated and lost the softness of childhood. Sinbad almost didn't recognize him.

"Sinbad." Proteus said, his lips parting in surprise. He obviously had no trouble recognizing him. His hold on the dog tightened, and he buried his face into Spike's neck. After a moment, Proteus straightened, his face split by a grin. "Men's best friend, huh?"


	10. Transparent

A/N Sorry guys. I know I've disappeared, but life has been crazy. Enjoy ;3

* * *

Proteus saw the way people looked at him. The way they watched him, as if he were something valuable, something great and grand. It was the way their eyes lingered, never quite on him, just skirting around his edges. As if he were a phantom, only _just_ visible to them.

And sometimes, he wondered if he was. If they could only see some transparency of him; a ghost settled into the throne and bearing the weight of the crown. A blurry apparition of only lineage and bloodline without hopes and dreams and fears of his own.

For a long time, he had wondered if anyone would ever be able to find solidity; to find a person, to find him. When he had first saved Sinbad on the streets, he had never expected that Sinbad would be the one to see him beyond his princely titles. Of course, he had never expected that there would be a soul in all of Syracuse that wouldn't recognize him on sight.

Sinbad hadn't though. To him, Proteus had just been another pretty palace brat, but never a prince. If it hadn't been for the cocky bilge rat not caring about Proteus's titles, their encounter would have ended their, bloody and in the dust. Even when Sinbad found out the truth, their relationship didn't change. In Sinbad's eyes, he was a living, breathing, feeling person, long before he was an apparition of princely duty. And to Proteus, Sinbad was Sinbad.

_His_ Sinbad.


	11. Apart

Proteus told himself it was the moonbeams shining through his window and into his eyes that kept him from sleep. Told himself to ignore the feeling of empty sheets and broken promises beside him. Told himself he wasn't wrong.

It was his duty to marry for the kingdom. They had known that. Had known the day that Marina arrived in Syracuse was coming.

Just because he was in love with someone else didn't mean he could turn away from his obligations.

Even if it tore him apart to do so.


	12. Smuggling

It wasn't that Proteus had never partaken of a little too much alcohol before. After he had turned fourteen, he had discovered he could sentence the boring parties he was required to attend to nothing more than a blur if he drank a little more wine than was appropriate. He had tasted his father's mead, received intoxicating gifts from ambassadors and pursuer's alike, lived off of rum and grog while at sea, and shared many drunken moments with Sinbad.

That still did not mean he had ever drank smuggled liquor while sharing the company of a pirate in a house of ill repute.

Sinbad regarded him with his soft dark eyes, barely lit by the flickering candle on their table. "Come on, love." he whispered, placing a subtle hand on Proteus thigh. "Don't tell me I went through all that trouble just to watch you not drink it."

They were at this sordid tavern under the cover of night, cloaks, and fake names. Well, Proteus was. His beloved was a regular patron here, a fact given away by the cat calls and jibes of the others.

Tucking a strand of Proteus' loose hair behind his ear, Sinbad gave him an appeasing smile. He held the cup out to him, the reflections of flames dancing on the wine's dark surface. "I was thinking of you when I lifted it. The sacred wine to celebrate Hathor." He bit his lip as his gaze dropped to Proteus's lips. "The Goddess of love, joy and drink."

Biting back on the warmth that spread through his chest at his words, Proteus fixed him with a disapproving stare. "What sort of ruler am I to be if I inspire my subjects to steal?" he whispered for Sinbad's ears only.

Sinbad gave him a mocking grin, even as he moved closer, pressing his lips to Proteus' pulse point. He kissed, lips and teeth teasing. "But I'm not truly your subject, your Majesty."

"No." Proteus conceded, tangling one hand in Sinbad's hair to draw him closer. The hand on his thigh shifted, and Proteus groaned. "No, you're not."

With his free hand, he took the glass from Sinbad's grasp. He drank deep, tasting the Egyptian sun sweet berries on his tongue. The taste danced on his tongue. Grapes, pomegranates, honey. Setting it aside, he pulled away from Sinbad. Sinbad watched him from under his lashes with lust darkened eyes.

"Did you truly think of me while you stole this?" Proteus asked him softly, feeling desire coil in his stomach.

"I think of you," Sinbad started, punctuating it with a kiss to Proteus' palm, "every minute of every day. I heard the story, and I knew it was meant for you and I."

Proteus kissed him with his wine-sweet mouth.

* * *

A/N I apologize for messing with Egyptian Mythology. Please forgive my meddling. As always, thank you to my lovely readers.


	13. Retreat

"How many more times, Sinbad?"

Startled, Sinbad tore his gaze from the retreating shoreline. Kale regarded him with level eyes, arms crossed over his large chest.

Forcing a smile on his face, Sinbad slumped back against the hull of the ship, blocking his view of the retreating palace. He cocked head to the side. "How many more times what?"

Kale's frown deepened. "How many more times are you going to run away from him?"


	14. Scrawl

Sinbad didn't care for reading. He had the open seas and the oral stories of other cultures. He didn't need written adventures when every day was hurricanes and irate Chaos Goddesses, bar brawls and vengeful sirens.

Still, there was one book Sinbad kept, its spine cracked and broken, the papyrus pages worn to near transparency on only one page. It sat tucked among his treasures, one of the last few things he had of home. And the reason he had lost it.

He took the book in hand, settling on his bunk. The broken book fell open almost eagerly, displaying small, cramped handwriting and scandalously dull courtly laws. Sinbad didn't care about that. Instead he ran his finger over the larger, looping scrawl that was Proteus'.

_I love you, and I don't know what to do about it._

Sinbad stared at it for a long time. Then, in the middle of the night, the ship changed course.


	15. Flag Ship

The flag of Syracuse's Navy snapped in the breeze above as Proteus trotted into the underbelly of his ship. Finally, _his_ ship.

"Captain." His lieutenant said, fingers to his forehead. "The prisoners are ready for your inspection."

Looking beyond him, Proteus ran his gaze over the pirates. A large shirtless brown man, glowering. A short, lean man beside him, praying in Italian. His eyes skipped over them, till they landed on the last one. His heart stopped beating.

"Proteus." A scowl marred his sinfully perfect mouth.

His lungs constricted, pushing the air and his name from his lips. "Sinbad."


	16. Shadows

He could rule the world, Proteus could.

Sinbad leaned back against the pillar, watching his prince mingle among the crowd. If Proteus had known he was here, he would have dragged him into the crowd, surreptitiously clinging to him as if Sinbad's mere touch could save him from the boredom and fawning followers. Or maybe it would change after all these years, and the two of them would leave behind the crowd, and lose themselves in a world of their making. But he didn't know Sinbad was there, and that was the way Sinbad wanted it.

At least, that's what he told himself. It was what Proteus deserved. He deserved this, the world presented to him on a platter, not the life of a pirate. The love of a pirate. Proteus would rule Syracuse, Syracuse would love him, and Sinbad would be content to be its silent defender, content to stand, unseen in shadows to catch a mere glimpse of his prince, his love.

It was what Proteus deserved, even if the prince hadn't agreed.

Sinbad turned away, and let the shadows swallow up the place he had stood.


	17. Unbound

Proteus scowled at the apparition of the woman in front of him. Eris didn't seem to notice his glowering, for she fixed him with radiant smile. "Proteus, Proteus," she murmured, disappearing from lounging on his bed to sitting on a chair. Her hair haloed around her head; snake-like strands reaching for him. He shuddered as one brushed his cheek.

"What are you doing here, Eris?" He demanded, fingers itching for a knife he didn't have. While they had allowed him to change from the clothes he had worn in prison to something more befitting a prince for his execution, he hadn't been allowed weapons for obvious reasons. And though he had been freed when Sinbad had returned and forced Eris to return the book, he hadn't had time to gather his usual sword and dagger.

She shrugged, a lithe movement of one slender shoulder. "I think perhaps you should have taught your dear Sinbad more of your religion." She laid a hand on the glowing X just below her clavicle. "He seemed to think that a Goddess of Chaos would find a promise," she laughed, and the glow faded away, leaving unmarked skin. "binding."

Suddenly, the feeling that had filled Proteus when the sword had been about to take Sinbad's life filled him again. It made his heart stop, his throat close as tight as if Eris had reached out to take him by it.

"What do you want?"

She gave a grin that was teeth and malice, before evaporating again. Proteus jumped when he felt the press of her cold, airy body behind him. "Well the choice is simple." Eris purred, running a clawed finger over the delicate skin of his throat. "His life, or yours."


	18. Lick

"Gods cursed dog." Sinbad shouted, shoving Spike away. The dog had jumped up the bench beside him, and had been frantically washing his face. "I love you, but if you keep it up I'll give you up for dog meat."

Coming onto the balcony, Proteus raised an eyebrow. He settled beside Sinbad, throwing an arm over his shoulders, stroking Spike's ears. "What? No love for me?"

Still glowering at the dog, Sinbad unwittingly shot back, "Only if _you_ lick me too." Realization struck like a slap. A blush burnt on his cheeks as he turned slowly to Proteus. "That's not..."

Proteus' eyes sparkled. "That could be arranged."


End file.
